


The Passion of St. Flagellus

by Sath



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Acting, Banter, Comedy, Crossdressing, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 19:05:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16816621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sath/pseuds/Sath
Summary: When a corrupt baron steals the holy foreskin of a saint from a defenseless village, Trevor and Sypha are determined to return the relic to its rightful owners. But first, they have to get into the baron's castle, and for that, they need the help of Alucard and an acting troupe.





	The Passion of St. Flagellus

Belnades and Belmont had spent weeks traversing the countryside, fighting evil, protecting the innocent, and only rarely getting drunk. Trevor was starting to think that being a hero was easy, particularly when a town was beset by something no more difficult than bandits. He knew a new vampire lord would pop up eventually, but in the meantime, he was enjoying being able to simply punch his enemies in the face.

That was, until they came to a small village being preyed upon by the local baron, a rogue Bohemian named Wilhelm von Stroppet. The local priest was nearly in tears as he told Trevor and Sypha about the baron.

“He took our relic,” the priest said. “The holy foreskin of St. Flagellus protected us from the night hordes.”

Ah yes, the foreskin protected them, and not the sudden, incredibly difficult slaying of Dracula.

“What does he want it for?” Sypha asked.

“The foreskin grants the possessor long life—one year per inch.”

“So that’s what, two years?” Trevor said, counting out possibilities on his fingers.

“The foreskin of St. Flagellus is twelve inches long,” the priest replied.

‘Twelve inches!” Trevor exclaimed. “What was St. Flagellus, a fucking whale?”

“Don’t question the foreskin’s provenance,” the priest said. He sighed and looked to Heaven. “We have nothing to offer you if you brought the foreskin back to us, other than our gratitude.”

Trevor pulled Sypha aside. “I’m not sure about this. Sure, the baron’s an asshole but we can’t go storming his castle for twelve inches of cockskin.”

“We don’t have to attack him,” Sypha replied. “We can steal the foreskin.”

“Steal? Do I look like a thief?”

“You certainly don’t look like an honest man. I’m sure there’s a way we could sneak in and out of the castle.”

“I think,” said the priest, who’d overheard, “that if you pretended to be actors, he would let you in.”

“Perfect!” Sypha replied. “I’ve always wanted to join an acting troupe. Is one in town?”

“Check the tavern.”

Trevor really wasn’t sure about the idea. For one thing, he couldn’t act. For another thing, Sypha couldn’t lie. Nevertheless, he followed Sypha to the tavern, where he immediately picked out the actors as the three sad-looking drunks in the back.

“Hello, friends,” Trevor said, sitting down across from the eldest. He looked around sixty, but was probably younger. Life was hard. “Your troupe is looking a little depleted.”

“There used to be seven of us,” the man replied. “Then two dropped of plague, another of leprosy, and a night creature took the fourth.”

“So what sort of plays are you doing now?” Trevor asked. “Half of a spectacle? Have enough for the angels but not enough for Hell?”

“Fuck off.”

“We’d like to join your troupe,” Sypha said.

“But you’re a woman,” another one of them replied. “It’d be unseemly.”

“I could pretend to be a boy, if you’re going to be like that about it.”

“Why on earth would you _choose_ to become actors?” asked the eldest, who must be the leader. “Are you fleeing a crime? Are you possessed by demons?”

“It’s only a small crime,” Trevor said. “Just a little burgling and blasphemy.”

“Fine—but what we need,” the leader replied, “isn’t a woman playing a boy, but a boy to play a woman. Someone without a speck of facial hair and, preferably, a blond. The baron loves blonds.”

“If I brought you a beautiful blond man, would you let us join you?” Trevor asked.

“Sure. There aren’t many plays you can do with just three people.”

Trevor rose to his feet. “We’ll be back. Don’t leave town.”

* * *

“I hope Alucard hasn’t gotten too weird after we left him in the castle where he killed his father and which is in all likelihood extremely fucking haunted,” Trevor said, knocking on the front door.

“He needed the alone time,” Sypha replied.

There was a high-pitched barking from the other side of the door. “Is that Alucard?” Trevor asked.

“Trevor…”

The door flew open, nearly hitting Trevor in the face. A small black dog pranced through, its skeletal leg clicking against the floor.

“Oh my god, he’s turned to necromancy,” Trevor said, but he reached down to pet the abomination anyway, because it was adorable. 

Alucard walked out after a suitably dramatic wait. “Hello. What brought you back? Was it pitchforks again?”

“We wanted to see how you were doing,” Sypha said.

“And to invite you to join an acting troupe with us. They refuse to let us join until we bring a blond who’s pretty enough to play a woman, and I just refuse to shave.”

“Absolutely not,” Alucard said, picking up his undead dog and scratching under its chin.

“Beautiful animal,” Trevor lied. “What’s its name?”

“His name’s Kelvin.”

“Kevin?”

Alucard rolled his eyes. “Why do you two need to join an acting troupe? Is fighting evil not working out?”

“There’s an evil baron who seized a village’s holy relic,” Sypha said. “We can’t storm his castle, so we wanted to slip in as actors and steal it back.”

“So you’d like me to help you recover some shriveled up piece of skin or knucklebone or whatever saint’s bits—”

“The foreskin,” Trevor supplied.

“—some saint’s preserved cock, all for some superstitious peasants who can’t do what everyone else does and just circumcise a bull, dry the skin out, and put it in the reliquary.”

“Yes,” Trevor and Sypha said.

“You two are lucky I’m bored enough to do this,” Alucard said.

Trevor had thought up a whole inspiring speech about how it wasn’t about the reward, it was about standing up for the helpless. How it wasn’t just a foreskin, but hope. Trevor also had some tripe to say about the human spirit, though it occurred, even to him, that Alucard might not be entirely sympathetic to that metaphor. All of Trevor’s speechifying got to go safely into his mental garbage pile.

The three of them set off back to the village of von Stroppet. Alucard brought nothing with him, except for Kevin. He had no idea how the dog had gotten into the castle, but he assumed it must have belonged to one of Dracula’s forgemasters. “It couldn’t have been Isaac,” Alucard had said. “Kelvin must have belonged to the other one.”

Kevin posed a bit of a problem. They couldn’t leave the dog behind, but he was also clearly undead. The problem was easily solved when Trevor flirted with an old woman who was only too happy to knit a sweater and eyepatch for a dog.

After three days travel, they arrived at the tavern to find that the acting troupe seemingly hadn’t even changed chairs in the time it’d taken them to pick up Alucard. Trevor waved to get their attention, then gestured towards Alucard.

“He’ll do,” said the eldest. “Looking like that he barely even needs to act.”

The actors introduced themselves as Mircea, Ion, and Gavril. Mircea was the leader (who turned out to be forty-five), then Ion and Gavril went along with whatever he said. Ion seemed insufferable, but at least Gavril had good looks going for him.

Alucard’s introduction did not go so well. “Alucard? Isn’t that Dracula backwards?” asked Mircea. “Are those fangs?”

“I have a condition,” Alucard replied.

“He’s light-sensitive,” Trevor added helpfully.

“Have you let a vampire into our troupe?” said Ion.

“I don’t care if he’s a vampire if he can act like a pretty woman,” Mircea replied. “And if you are a vampire, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. ”

Mircea handed out three scripts (the paper was well-worn, and the writer’s hand was terrible) and threw them right into a rehearsal. He decided to let Sypha act after all, but only if she played a boy, so the audience wouldn’t catch on to a scandalous female presence on stage.

“Hold on,” Trevor said, skimming over the script. “Where are the saints? The miracles? There isn’t even the Black Death in this.”

“Not every play has to be religious,” Mircea replied. “This one is about Messalina cuckolding the Roman emperor Claudius and being executed for it.”

“Charming,” said Sypha. 

“I’ll play Claudius, and Alucard will be the beautiful Messalina. Sypha, you’ll play the teenaged ghost of Caligula. Trevor will be Horny Praetorian Guard #2. Gavril and Ion will play everyone else—we have enough wigs.”

“Oh good, Trevor gets to play himself,” Alucard remarked.

“You know, I was starting to like you while we were apart,” Trevor said, “but now I remember what a huge cock you are.”

* * *

The third day of Trevor’s acting career ended with Alucard throwing a prop baby at him. That was actually in the script, but the baby connecting with Trevor’s chin was not.

“Ow,” Trevor grumbled.

“Don’t worry about it, Horny Praetorian Guard #2,” Alucard said, dusting off his hands. “You’re not going to lose a fight to an infant, are you?” 

Trevor tossed the baby back at Alucard, but he stepped out of the way and it hit Gavril instead.

“Ow!”

“Actors, if you’re going to fight, do it in character,” Mircea said, “or I’ll kick you out and hope you get the plague.”

For once, Trevor completely blanked on an insult. What would Horny Praetorian Guard #2 be mad at Messalina for? She was gorgeous and slatternly enough that her terrible personality didn’t matter; in fact, Horny Praetorian Guard #2 probably couldn’t be mad at her. It was in his name, after all.

Alucard just looked at him, seeming as lost for words as Trevor was. His brow was furrowed, just slightly, and it was almost endearing. Did that mean Trevor was getting into character?

“That’s enough for today,” Mircea announced. “Trevor and Alucard, figure out why you two are always so annoyed with each other, for fuck’s sake.”

Alucard turned on his heel and walked towards the woods. Trevor thought about just letting him stew out there, but that would mean letting him get away with being a prick. Besides, there were still night creatures roaming the countryside, though in smaller numbers now. Alucard couldn’t take care of himself as well as he thought.

There was something different about him now. He seemed brittle, like he could break at any moment and do God knows what. It was hard to remember that Alucard was younger than Trevor and had lost just as much, because Alucard hardly ever showed emotions beyond being collected or disdainful. The only time Trevor had seen something else had been Alucard’s raw horror as his father reached out to him with withered claws. Trevor recalled that look sometimes, when Alucard was very still.

So, Alucard probably did have feelings after all. Trevor went after him, stomping through the undergrowth and generally making a racket.

“What crawled up your arse, Alucard?” Trevor called out. “We were getting along, then Sypha and I leave for two weeks and you’ve adopted a zombie dog and gone back to acting like I’ve personally offended you!”

Alucard stopped and turned around. “You do personally offend me, _Belmont_. Your whole family dedicated themselves to wiping out my kind, and so did you. Just because you haven’t tried to stake me yet doesn’t mean that you never will. There are children’s skulls in your library, and they were certainly more innocent than I am.”

“It’s your library now, because I gave it to you,” Trevor replied, having no better response to his family’s macabre collection. “Vampires kill people for sport, Alucard. Your father was an exception while you were growing up, but look at what happened after your mother died. And—wait, are you afraid of me?”

“I could tear your throat out with my teeth.”

“It’s talk like that that really keeps me on my toes.”

“See?” Alucard said. “You just admitted you’re ready to fight me.”

“Fine. Of course I’m ready to fight you, but I hope I never will. For one, kicking you in the balls did nothing, and that’s scary.”

“Did you go for my balls to change the subject?”

“Yes. Did it work?”

“I can do you one better,” Alucard replied, and turned into a wolf before running off into the forest.

“He really did outdo me, that fucker.”

Trevor returned to where the troupe was camped. Mircea nodded at him as he walked past.

“Did you two figure it out?” Mircea asked.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Thought so. Is he coming back?”

With a shrug, Trevor replied, “Probably.”

Trevor sat down near the fire, next to Sypha. She was having a good time talking to Gavril, who had a bit of a bruise on his cheek from being hit with the baby. If only Alucard hadn’t dodged—it’s not like the prop would’ve hurt him if it had hit. Trevor was relieved Alucard had cut off the conversation when he had, because it wasn’t going anywhere that Trevor could fix. He was a Belmont, and trying to do the right thing, and the right thing was killing vampires.

So why did he care whether a half-vampire trusted him or not?

* * *

Alucard returned the next morning, just as the sun rose. They got through the rehearsal without any problem—Alucard threw the baby only where and when he was supposed to. The next few days of rehearsals were uneventful, and while Alucard certainly wasn’t friendly, he also didn’t accuse Trevor of being a vampire child murderer again.

But on the morning of their performance for the duke, there was something new hanging over Trevor’s head.

“You just added something to the script. I can tell because it’s in a different ink,” Trevor said.

“Aren’t you a scholar?” Mircea replied. “Yes, I did add in a kiss scene. I think it’s needed. You and Alucard have exquisite tension, and also: you have ‘horny’ in your character’s name.”

“I don’t want to kiss Alucard!”

“I assume you also don’t want to murder the Roman emperor for Alucard, but that’s acting for you.”

Alucard appeared with the script in hand. “Mircea, I have an objection to this.”

“Just kiss him,” Mircea said. “It won’t kill you. We’re performing in a few hours and a kiss is the only way the plot makes sense. How can you have an illicit play without an illicit kiss? You just can’t!”

“But what if we kill each other?” Trevor asked.

“Will you?”

Trevor looked at Alucard. Did the thought of kissing him make him feel murderous? Not… really. It made him feel a bit more like Horny Praetorian Guard #2.

Goddamn it.

Alucard stormed off again, leaving Trevor gaping like a gutted fish. Oh, this was so much worse than hating the idea. He’d always been weak for people with gorgeous hair and who could beat him up while completely shirtless.

“You could’ve told us earlier,” Trevor mumbled.

“You would’ve found a way to weasel out of it,” Mircea replied.

Well, at least if Trevor got a hard-on, there would be a heavy Roman skirt in the way. 

“Right,” Mircea said. “Everyone gather up.”

As Mircea made a show of climbing onto a nearby rock to gain some added height, Trevor and the other plays stood in a line in front of him.

“We’re about to leave for the baron’s castle,” Mircea began. “Baron von Stroppet is known for being a difficult man, but by God does he love theater. We are not going to give him any reason to do anything but shower us with money, do you hear?”

“Hear, hear,” said Ion and Gavril.

Mircea announced, “Acting is the most important thing you can do with your life.”

Trevor held back his objection that saving the world was a _little_ bit more important.

“Now, half of us are a pack of amateurs, but that shouldn’t make a difference. If you feel the play in your very soul, then you’ll capture the audience—and in this case, the audience has quite a lot of money he throws at actors he likes.”

“I heard that if we put on a good show,” Trevor whispered to Alucard, “he’ll invite us up afterwards, and save us from sneaking around until after we’ve knocked him out and taken the foreskin.”

“So kiss me like you mean it,” Alucard replied.

“I’m very good at meaning it,” Trevor said.

Mircea kept going on about acting in the tradition of the great Greek plays and how they would transport the audience into throes of religious ecstasy over the tragic lust of Messalina. With that endured, they headed to the castle of Baron von Stroppet.

* * *

Compared to Dracula’s castle, nothing could look impressive, but the baron’s dwelling looked more like a country house than a castle. Trevor was starting to regret not just storming the place, but raiding a baron’s possessions for some angry peasants never looked good, no matter how justified.

The castellan ushered them into the great hall, and Gavril went off to help Alucard with his costume. He’d yet to appear in a dress, due to Mircea’s superstition that rehearsing in skirts would “dispel the illusion of femininity.” Joke’s on Mircea; Trevor already wanted to fuck Alucard. Honestly, Trevor was a little disappointed in himself. He thought he’d had better taste than a half-vampire.

Trevor had to get into position for the play to begin. Despite the unpromising name, Horny Praetorian Guard #2 was in much of the play, albeit in the background. Mircea gave the sign for them to begin. Trevor looked out at the audience—the baron was probably the man sitting in the most elaborate chair, towards the back—and felt his first pang of stage fright. What if he was crap?

Fine. It was fine to be a crap actor. He just had to be good enough for the baron to invite him upstairs, and as long as it was for lecherous reasons, Trevor had that one in the bag. He was handsome, after all.

Mircea was more commanding on the stage than Trevor had expected; something about the toga gave him more dignity. Nothing could help Gavril and Ion, though Sypha was surprisingly good as Caligula’s teenaged ghost.

Alucard arrived twenty minutes into the play. He didn’t look particularly different, but Trevor still felt like the wind was knocked out of him. Alucard’s hair had been put up and his dress had a low neckline and heavy skirts. The only makeup he was wearing had been used to hide his scar. Trevor found himself staring at Alucard’s exposed nape, which had a few curls escaping his bun. The dress made it easier to pretend Alucard was Messalina, and that it wasn’t quite so fucking stupid to want the emperor’s wife as much as it was to want his nemesis’s son.

The next hour passed in a haze, as Trevor tried to remember all his lines (he didn’t) and display appropriate lust (he did). Alucard spoke with a softer tone and kept looking breathlessly in Trevor’s direction, which shouldn’t have worked but it absolutely did. He’d even fluttered his eyelashes a few times. Alucard-but-in-a-dress was much harder to resist than Alucard-the-condescending-prick-in-trousers. By the time the kiss scene came around, Trevor was all too eager to do it.

“You may approach me, praetorian,” Alucard said, lifting his chin.

Trevor practically trotted over. “What could you possibly want from a lowly servant like me?” he asked.

“A kiss,” Alucard purred, stroking his cheek.

Thankfully, Trevor was supposed to stand there gormlessly, which he already was, no acting required. Alucard leaned in and pressed their lips together while a scandalized gasp rose from the crowd. His lips were warmer than Trevor had thought they would be, soft and human, though he could feel the fangs underneath. Trevor reached up to hold Alucard by the arm and pull him closer, deepening the kiss until he had to stop for fear of cutting his tongue on Alucard’s teeth.

Alucard moaned. It was, without doubt, a very quiet moan. Trevor was _amazing_. He let Alucard go and he stumbled backwards, with a flush across his cheeks as he did an unscripted wipe across his mouth. If they still had lines, they’d both forgotten them, because they just stared at each other until Gavril and Ion arrived to arrest them.

Trevor got to leave the stage for the last time, but Alucard still had to go on trial before his beheading. Mircea gave him a raised eyebrow when Trevor joined him offstage.

“Good acting,” Mircea said.

“What can I say, I’m a natural,” Trevor replied.

After waiting a tense few minutes, the cheer going up from the audience probably meant the death of the unfaithful Messalina. Trevor and the others returned to the stage to receive the audience’s praise; he was starting to see the appeal of acting over monster-hunting—for one thing, Trevor hadn’t even been hit by anything. Trevor’s heart sank when he saw the baron get up and leave. His steward scurried forward to take Trevor and Alucard aside.

“The baron would like to see the two of you in his room,” the steward said.

“We’d be honored,” said Alucard, and mouthed “don’t fuck this up” at Trevor as they followed the steward up a flight of stairs.

The steward showed them to the baron’s room. It was dominated by a massive fireplace, which had two carved lions on either side. Everything else in the room was what Trevor expected from minor nobility—apparently, Baron von Stroppet was only remarkable for the coldness of his ass. The steward pointed out where Trevor and Alucard were supposed to sit before rushing out of the room.

Well, it certainly was going to be that kind of meeting, was it? Trevor helped himself to one of the glasses of wine on the table.

“That was an incredibly stirring performance,” said the baron. “Had you rehearsed the kiss before?”

“It was a late addition,” Alucard replied.

“It was magnificent! So full of emotion, of yearning and lust only barely restrained,” the baron said. “I can barely think of anything but the sight of you two locking lips. It reminded me so much of my own life’s work. In fact—there’s something I have to show you two.”

Trevor fully expected that the baron was going to take his cock out, but instead he handed out a thick stack of manuscript pages to each of them.

“I would be well-disposed towards your acting troupe if you were to privately perform this play for me,” the baron declared.

The manuscript was entitled “The Seduction of Daphne, as a Tree.” There were only two cast members: a beautiful young man dressed as a laurel, and Apollo, naked.

“I think that’s enough for now,” Trevor said, looking to Alucard.

“I’m forced to agree,” Alucard replied. He lifted his hand, and his sword, hidden somewhere in his skirts, rose into the air and the hilt smacked the shocked baron in the forehead. The baron dropped like a ton of insufferable bricks.

They searched the room for the foreskin of St. Flagellus. It wasn’t in any of the obvious places, like the mantel or the baron’s pockets. After a tense half an hour of ransacking the place, Trevor found the thing underneath the baron’s pillow. It wasn’t quite twelve inches of skin, but it was also hundreds of years old and seemingly mummified.

“That’s disgusting; you hold on to it,” Alucard said.

There was a knock on the door. “My lord, your presence is requested downstairs,” said the steward.

“Fuck,” Trevor hissed. “What do we do?”

“Knock out the steward too?”

They heard the sound of the steward whispering to the guards who were with him.

“Not the best option,” Trevor replied. “We need to sneak out somehow.” He started tapping his whip against the wall, looking for a secret passage. A man paranoid enough to steal a lifegiving foreskin had to have one. Trevor finally found a hollow spot in the wall, and after feeling up everything around it, located the right segment of brick to open it up.

Trevor got the door closed just in time for the steward to enter.

“Where the hell did they go?” the steward said. “Oh god, the baron!”

“Come on, Alucard,” Trevor said, and broke into a run.

The passage was pitch dark. As they got further away from the light of the baron’s room, Trevor could barely see.

“Do you need help?” Alucard asked.

“What are you going to do, hold my hand?”

“Yes.”

“Damn it.”

Trevor took Alucard’s hand. Alucard’s skin was uncallused; he supposed that being a swordsman didn’t matter when you were part-undead horror. The passage was steep, and at a few points Trevor had to practically lean against Alucard so he wouldn’t trip and fall. Even though he could hardly see Alucard, his blood was up like Horny Praetorian Guard #2’s.

He knew they’d reached the end of the passageway when they saw light shining in through the small cracks in the stone marking the door. Hopefully, they were outside the castle walls.

“We should wait until it gets dark to leave,” Trevor said.

“Wonderful,” Alucard replied, sighing.

“I don’t understand you, Alucard. You came with us when you didn’t have to, yet you’ve acted like an arsehole about it the whole time.” When Alucard didn’t reply, Trevor added, “Also, you moaned when I kissed you.”

Alucard blushed and looked away. “It was an automatic reaction.”

“So you’d do that for anyone?”

“Belmont,” Alucard muttered, turning redder.

“Yes, I’m a Belmont. I kill vampires. But you’re not entirely a vampire, and you’re not going to go around biting people, so I don’t see why my last name has to matter so damn much.”

“It shouldn’t,” Alucard said quietly.

“Then don’t let it! It’s that simple.”

“It’s complicated, because I want to kiss you again.”

Trevor’s jaw dropped. “Well, I can’t blame you, given my raw animal magnetism—”

Alucard silenced him with a kiss, pressing Trevor’s back up against the wall. Unlike on the stage, Alucard wasn’t careful with his fangs. Trevor nicked his lip against one, and tasted the iron tang of blood. Alucard growled deep in his throat and lapped at the cut. If Trevor had any sense, he’d be grabbing for a stake, but instead he reached down to rub at Alucard’s hardening cock through his skirts. 

“I think I like how this looks on you,” Trevor said, glancing down at Alucard’s corseted waist.

“You look ridiculous in a Roman uniform,” Alucard replied, “but at least we have matching skirts.”

“Easy to get out of the way, right?”

Trevor sought out Alucard’s mouth again, kissing him as he hiked up Alucard’s skirts. He felt Alucard’s fangs on his lips again, teasing rather than biting. Trevor used his free hand to take Alucard’s hair out of its bun, finally getting to run his fingers through it. Alucard tucked the skirt of Trevor’s uniform up into his belt and pressed their cocks together. They were of a similar enough height that it was easy to get just the right amount of friction. Alucard wrapped his hand around both their cocks.

“For such a wanker, I’m unsurprised you’re good at this,” Trevor said.

Alucard broke the kiss, and Trevor thought he was in trouble, until he felt Alucard’s mouth on his neck. Well, he could still be in a lot of trouble. Alucard kissed his way down Trevor’s neck, pausing by the carotid artery. Trevor tugged on Alucard’s hair and came messily in his hand only a few moments before Alucard did.

* * *

They found their way back to the campsite where Sypha was waiting for them.

“What took you two so long?” she asked, as Kevin scampered up to Alucard.

“We knocked out the baron and had to flee through a secret passage,” Alucard replied.

“That explains why we were hurried out of the castle,” she said. “The baron got what he deserved.”

“How are Mircea and the others taking the end of our acting career?” Trevor asked.

“Well, they still got paid—I think the baron was too embarrassed by what happened to pretend anything was wrong. I think Mircea was starting to like us.”

“What a sha—oh my God, Alucard, don’t let Kevin play with the holy foreskin!”

Alucard looked up from where he was holding the foreskin just out of reach of Kevin’s paws. But then, too quickly for anyone to stop him, Kevin leaped on his stubby legs to catch the foreskin in his teeth and gulp it down.

As Sypha and Trevor stared at him in horror, Alucard said, “I have a way to fix this.”

“Can vampires go back in time?” Trevor asked, not entirely joking.

“We’ll do what we should have done from the beginning,” Alucard replied, patting Kevin on the head. “You two will just have to wait for sunrise so you can ask a farmer to sell you a bull’s penis.”

“So we went to all that trouble for nothing,” Trevor said. “I’m sure you’re feeling very smug about it.”

“Of course I am.”

“Did you feed Kevin the foreskin on purpose?”

“His name is Kelvin, and no.” He picked up Kevin and walked towards the wagon. “But I’m very proud of him. The play wasn’t entirely a wasted effort though, don’t you think?”

Trevor found himself grinning. “Not entirely. I’d be up for doing parts of it again.”

“With or without the skirts?” Alucard asked.

“I’ll leave that up to you.” 


End file.
